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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210843">Ash and Tree Bark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Experi/pseuds/Experi'>Experi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, GOD i LOVE HEKTOR, Gen, Paternal Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:14:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>737</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Experi/pseuds/Experi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Keeping watch makes Hektor think too much.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ash and Tree Bark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Here, play this game: the things that you love will burn.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Everything solid is finite, a reality that’s thrown into sharp contrast when you yourself are not. Hektor knows this as inevitability. As a Servant he is transient, presence as ghostlike as it should be when he died millennia ago. He appears when he’s called, fights what he’s told (so long as it’s not something abhorrent), and then he quietly steps back into the Throne, his memories all he keeps with him. (And those are held close to his chest, valuable above anything else, even the ones that boil in shame or fear. They are all he has.)</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>When he steps back out, gets called again, it’s almost certain that everything he knew or had from the last campaign will not matter. The people he met, friends he made, any variety of love he has offered won’t matter. Humans die, Servants change obligations alongside their master. What he has left: memory and the feeling of ash on his lips.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The city beloved burned and so too did Hektor, and he learned then that everything is transient. Smoke stays in his lungs (the cigarette is familiar in that manner).</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The person next to him will disappear. Not here, not now, not from battle (if there is any say that Hektor will get to have in that), but they will die eventually. The singularity he’s in will too collapse back into a primordial light once they lift the Grail back from whoever has it captured this time. When they finish their work, the reality where they’ve made new allies and friends will disappear, too, never happened and never meant anything save for the memory of someone else’s smile in Hektor’s head.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>So work is done. So consequences fold in on themselves to a singularity of could-have-beens.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The mage next to him mutters in their sleep, shifts a little. Hektor glances down at them, something bittersweet brewing in his head. What is it…? (But in the end, does it matter to name things?)</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Guard duty always makes him think too much. (And yet he takes it as often as he can, until he has no choice but to sleep.) He thinks about Ritsuka, a human who walked into hell on accident and refused to burn. (Char, yes, a singe unavoidable, but here they stand even when their legs are shaky and here they refuse to let fire take the world around them.) A soldier who shouldn’t have been forced to be one, but who takes the mantle nonetheless. Hektor respects bravery, perseverance. Respects whatever it is that keeps Ritsuka standing (he thinks he knows, finds it familiar, the thing a man made of storm once stood with in front of a wall).</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>There’s this: the inescapable need to protect something dear.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
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  </span>
  <span>Hektor’s hands are careful when he moves, gentle-light touch so as to not wake Ritsuka. He brushes the mage’s sleep-tousled bangs aside, watches their face thoughtfully. Hektor doesn’t know what realizations or revelations he’s looking for, nothing new and no facts he didn’t already know come to him. But Ritsuka looks peaceful and that is perhaps all Hektor can ask for, that he can keep this one comfortable enough to sleep calmly beside him. Hektor idly (pointlessly, but very carefully) smooths Ritsuka’s hair back down, contemplative too in the motion of his hand, like trying to draw with a fingertip in water without leaving too large a ripple.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Ritsuka doesn’t stir.</span>
  <span> A long time ago, his prayers were for his son named as a protector to become better than those who came before him. Ritsuka isn't his kid, but they bring the feeling back. He knows they're the one chosen to bear a shield just as much as Mash is, as Astyanax should have been, and Hektor knows he isn't ideal nor their parent, but the prayer is the same. That if any god exists or listens, Hektor can file a prayer that he'll get to watch them become great. Stronger than him, than any of the heroes. The power of an everyday person who can still face down an army. As many times as it's necessary.<br/></span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Hektor leans back and settles once more into his watchdog role. Things will be alright, somehow, assuredly. It’s hard not to believe that around Ritsuka. Like burning cropland, even if things disappear it’s best that they were there in the first place.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[ritsuka pointing at hektor] you are my dad, boogie woogie woogie, youre my dad!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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